


Where Do We Go When We Fall Asleep?

by Lulubird



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2020-03-17 04:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18958090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulubird/pseuds/Lulubird
Summary: It is four months after the end of season 1 and the landscape of their world is unrecognizable. In the burned ruins of New Ham, Harry has fallen back into depression and despair, riddled with guilt and sick with his memories. By the lake, the others are trying to survive day to day in the wilderness away from Campbell's dictatorship. Allie is struggling to adjust to this new life, haunted by everything that has happened and filled with a new found fear of the world. Can they survive the wilderness, each other and their own demons?





	1. The Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for clicking. This story was inspired by in-my-head-i-do-everything-right on tumblr who kindly filled my inbox with Harry/Allie ideas. Hope you like reading it. - Lu

A cold wind was blowing across the lake towards the little huddle of tents and shelters. Allie turned her face into the wind, averting her gaze from her watch area, and felt the sting of the early winter air on her face. Tears sprang to her eyes but she forced herself to keep them open. Only when she couldn’t stand it anymore, when the stinging in her eyes forced her to blink, did she wipe the tears away and look back to the expanse of grass that she was responsible for.

She let her gaze drift over the patch of their new world that was illuminated by the solar powered lanterns they’d set up around the perimeter of the camp. The area that she was monitoring that night was the expanse of grass that faced New Ham, the recently ploughed earth of their crop zone stretching halfway to the dark abyss of the tree line.

She was sitting on a rickety raised platform, built like a kid’s tree house, with a lantern at her side and a blanket thrown over her shoulders to protect her from the cold. Not that it did much. She felt the cold to her bones even when she was sitting a foot from the campfire. She hadn’t been able to get warm since they fled New Ham. Maybe she’d never be warm again. Even so, she pulled the blanket further around her shoulders and stared glumly at the swaying tree tops, lit by the almost full moon overhead.

She could hear a few people still up in the camp but most had retreated to their tents. There was a soft murmur of voices from near the central campfire as Bean and Gordy cleared up the remnants of their dinner: a kind of fish and wild greens soup. The fishing team had pulled out three large fish from the lake that morning and Gwen had discovered a patch of wild asparagus several days ago that they’d combined with some chickweed and wood sorrel leaves. Thank goodness for Gordy’s insistence on packing all those books in their escape kit, without them they’d probably all have been poisoned by some toxic leaf by now.

Allie shifted to ease the ache in her back from the uncomfortable position. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt comfortable. Everyone in the camp acted like they’d aged fifty years now, groaning each time they stood up from the campfire, cracking their back and rolling their shoulders to ease the pain of a long day of hard labour. Whether they were digging out the vegetable garden to the north of the camp, or the crop land to the south, or chopping wood or walking for miles in the forest searching for edible plants or animals to hunt, they were all aching and exhausted by the end of every day.  
But they were alive. Somehow. Thirty three of them, plus one infant, surviving on the banks of the lake with only what they had managed to gather from New Ham before it burned. 

At the thought, Allie saw again the flames reaching into the night sky, the acrid smoke clogging her throat, the shouts and screams around her as the town descended into panic. It was hard to believe that had been four months ago. She still dreamed about it every night.

“Hey.”

The voice from the darkness jolted her from her memories and she startled, her hand flying to the gun that was sitting on the rough deck beside her. She never touched it. The person on watch before her always knew to leave it on the deck, never hand it to her, and she left it there her entire shift, sitting like a menacing black phantom beside her, filled with deadly potential. 

She pulled her hand back from it when she made out Will’s head emerging from the ladder. He eyed her fingers still hovering in the direction of the weapon and then looked to her, his eyes black in the shadows.

“Sorry, I thought you would have heard me coming.”

She shook her head mutely, pulling her hand back into the blanket, pulling it even tighter around her as she shuffled over slightly on the deck, making room for him. He heaved himself over the edge with the sigh of an old man and settled down beside her.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” she said into the uncomfortable silence between them. She could feel his eyes on her as she kept hers firmly on the dark horizon. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied shortly, finally pulling his gaze from her and looking out over the grass.

It wasn’t uncommon for any of them to rise in the early hours of the morning and find half a dozen other’s sitting on the logs around the smouldering campfire, talking quietly over cups of hot tea, taking some comfort in the sleepnessless of others. She never joined them, though she’d lie awake and listen to their soft voices.

“Kelly said you didn’t eat any dinner tonight,” he said when she didn’t say anything. His eyes were on her again, making her skin prickle. Allie bit down on her lower lip, suppressing the sudden flare of anger that rose up inside her. She hated that they were monitoring her like she was a child, like she was Baby Eden and they needed to make sure she was eating and sleeping. As if it were any of their business. A part of her knew she wasn’t being fair to them, to Will most of all, but she couldn’t suppress the irritation in her tone when she replied.

“I wasn’t hungry.”

Will sighed, which only irritated her more. She knew he was confused why things had changed. He didn’t understand why the Allie they’d rescued from the cellar as the town burned down around them was a different person to the one he’d been arrested with when Lexie and her army decided to have a coup. He hadn’t been changed by the two weeks they’d been locked up, apart from looking a bit skinnier and more exhausted than ever. And she couldn’t explain to him why she wasn’t the same Allie. 

In the darkness, she sensed his movement and felt the lightest touch of his fingertips on her arm through the blanket. She hadn’t let him touch her since they’d arrived here, hadn’t let anyone touch her. And he was hurting. He didn’t understand why she chose to work in the field digging trenches for 10 hours a day when he was collecting firewood in the forest, or why she sat on a solitary rock around the campfire leaving the space beside him on the log painfully obvious, or why she had moved her sleeping bag to the icy flap of their tent rather than sleep in the large room with him and Gordy and Bean. 

He pulled his hand away from her after a moment, choosing to pull away before he knew she would. She could almost feel his pain in the air between them and it made her chest ache. She didn’t want to hurt him but he just didn’t understand. She didn’t understand. Nothing made sense anymore.

“I’m going to go see if Gordy and Bean need any help cleaning up,” he said after another long stretch of silence. She only gave a tight nod, keeping her eyes fixed on the trees as if she were the most dedicated guard in history. He hesitated a second longer, maybe hoping she’d look at him just once, and then ducked his head and moved to the ladder.

Only when she heard the soft thump of his feet hitting the ground did she risk a look to where he had been sitting. A tear escaped down her cheek and she swiped at it angrily. She hated that he was hurting and that she was the cause but it felt like there was a chasm between them now and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t figure out how to get across. And he didn’t even seem to realise it was there.

Allie took a deep breath and burrowed down even further into her blanket, wishing that she could just fold it over her head and the whole world would disappear. Perhaps she’d pull it back and find herself sitting on her bed, Cassandra’s music playing from the next room and the sound of her mother’s footsteps coming up the stairs. The image caused a sob to escape from her lips and she clenched her jaw, forcing herself to think of something else.

The distraction came, not from herself, but from the dark shadows of the forest. All thoughts of home vanished as she straightened, her eyes straining to catch another glimpse of the movement which had caught her attention. A shadow – definitely human- slipped around the edge of the circle of light cast by the lanterns. Allie’s insides tightened and she felt suddenly sick. Was this it? Was this Campbell and the others finally rallied after the fire and come to take over their colony? They’d been waiting for it, hence why’d they’d set up guard duty the first night they set up camp beside the lake. 

Glancing over her shoulder she wondered whether she should scream, alert everyone in the camp to the coming danger. She looked frantically back at the darkness, trying desperately to catch even the slightest movement. There it was again, a tall figure just disappearing between two trees only twenty feet from her guard tower. She rose to her knees. There was no sign of anyone else. What if it was one of their own people who had gone for a walk? She didn’t want to freak everyone out until she knew, not when everyone was wound tight as a bowstring.

Her heart pounding with uncertainty and her teeth chattering from the cold night air, Allie emerged from her blanket. She stared at the gun beside her for a long moment and then, not giving herself time to think, snatched it up and stuffed it in the pocket of her sweatshirt. It was cold and heavy in her hand. She pushed aside the sudden image of the last time she’d held a gun and lowered herself swiftly and silently down the ladder. Her head was buzzing with adrenalin as she slipped into the trees, skirting the puddle of light of the lantern and plunging into the darkness. She paused a moment against a tree, heart pounding so loudly she was sure it would give her away, and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The light of the moon was just enough to make out the swaying trees and forest floor. She crept out from the shelter of her tree and put each foot down softly on the rotting leaves. She jumped when a twig cracked to her right, surely not 10 feet away, and on instinct her arm flew up, gun pointing into the trees.

“Don’t shoot!”

Her hand was shaking as she stood in the small clearing, her finger poised on the trigger and the barrel facing squarely at Harry Bingham’s chest.


	2. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who have left a comment or kudos...you guys make my heart sing.

He hadn’t taken a coat with him and as the sun began to set, a light drizzle began to fall. Harry wrapped his arms around himself but continued to trudge through the trees, head down, stumbling every twenty feet or so on some log or rock or root. He was exhausted but it seemed almost harder to stop than it did to just keep plodding on, one foot in front of the other. 

All he knew was that he had walked out of town to the north, the direction of the farmland. He didn’t have a plan, only to get out. He couldn’t stomach the sight of the blackened shells of buildings any more, or the soft sobbing that filled the church whenever the ragged and miserable group of survivors collected to listen to Campbell and Lexie threaten them all. He knew that if Campbell caught him fleeing, he might very well shoot him and leave his corpse to rot among the leaves of the forest floor. And if by some miracle he found the others at the farmland, alive, that they might too shoot him on the spot. He was beyond caring.

So he just kept walking and let the rain soak through his thin sweater until he was shivering so hard he could hardly walk in a straight line.

He didn’t know how many days he’d been walking when he saw the light. Darkness had fallen hours ago but he was still walking, stumbling even more. His hands were bleeding from the numerous falls and his knees felt as though they were shattered from all the impacts. Tonight might be the night. Tonight might be the night that he would stop, collapse against a tree, and never get up again.

He was so numb inside that the thought didn’t even seem to register in his mind. But his body seemed to want to fight still, for some insane reason, and so his legs continued to carry him forward until an unnatural yellow light hit his eyes and he stopped dead.

He swayed, cold and exhausted and hungry, as he contemplated the light. It wasn’t the moon reflecting off anything, far too bright. He moved forward a few more feet and peered between the trees and his breath almost left his chest. 

Stretched out across the grass were islands of yellow light glowing from the tops of poles. Within the spheres of illumination he could just make out dark shapes, tents and tarps sitting on the ground like squat giants. His heart began to pound as he watched a figure in the distance move between two tents.  
They were alive. His head spun and he slid down the trunk of a tree, not caring when he hit the dampness of the forest floor. He was looking at the people that had fled New Ham as it burned, with the supplies they had been collecting for two weeks without anyone realising.

He was too busy staring at the little town they’d built in front of him to notice the person that was running low through the grass towards him. It was only when he heard the softest footfalls on the whispering leaves that he realised he was no longer alone. He rose to his feet, heart beating hard once again, breath hitching in his chest. He had no idea how they’d react to his arrival.

He shifted behind his tree, moving around the trunk so catch a glimpse of whoever was coming towards him and his foot landed on a stick, the snap so loud that it felt as though it echoed in the clearing. Moonlight flashed off metal as a gun flew up.

“Don’t shoot!” Panic forced the words from Harry’s mouth as he found himself looking down the barrel of a gun with the last person he ever expected to see with her finger on the trigger.

His terrified gaze met Allie’s equally panicked blue eyes and, with dread, he realised that his life was in her hands.


	3. The Meeting

The aim of the gun wobbled dangerously as he her hands shook. Her pulse was roaring in her ears. Allie tried to catch her breath through the wave of adrenalin that was crashing through her as she levelled the gun on Harry. If her finger squeezed right now, a bullet would rip through his chest, breaking bone and tearing muscles, puncturing his lungs, his heart, sending his blood spilling across the forest floor. Just like Dewey had spilled Cassandra’s blood.

“Allie.” Harry sounded as terrified as she felt and her name on his lips came out as a desperate whisper.

“Don’t fucking move Harry, I swear I’ll shoot,” she hissed, lifting her other arm to support the gun. He held his hands a little higher and ducked his head, looking up at her through a tangle of messy brown hair.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he said softly, his tone heavy with defeat. A frightened sob stuck in her throat; she exhaled a shaking breath and steadied her stance.

“Who else is with you?” she demanded, allowing herself to quickly take her eyes off him and scan the trees around them. Only the ominous rustling of the leaves answered her.

“No one,” Harry said, “I swear. I’ve...I’ve left. They’d kill me if they knew.”

Allie snapped her eyes back to him and she took a step forward, narrowing her gaze as she tried to decide if he was telling the truth.

The last time she’d seen Harry she’d been locked in a basement and he’d been on the other side of the door, standing beside Lexie’s smug face and Campbell’s menacing glare. She remembered staring at him accusingly, the way he hadn’t been able to meet her eyes, the way he scuffed his foot on the ground and hung his head. She remembered, too, when he turned his back and left her there.

She swallowed the bitter taste that rose in her throat and glared at him through the tears that had sprung to her eyes. 

“You betrayed me,” she spat, angry at the pain that was evident in her voice. “You let them arrest me and lock me up. You lied!”

Harry shook his head, hands running through his hair. “I’m so sorry, Allie. I...I don’t know. I know I can’t explain away what happened. It just...Fuck. I just wanted everything to go back to how it was. And Campbell...”

“Don’t say his fucking name to me!” Allie hissed, the gun jerking in her hand as the tears finally escaped, rolling down her cheeks. 

Harry’s arms snapped back to a surrender position and he stumbled back a step in fright. They stared at each other for a long minute; Allie could feel the weight of the gun, practically buzzing in her hands. She could feel the energy of it running up her arm like lightning, just like it had when she’d fired the bullet that killed Dewey. God, she’d hated it. And the worst part was, the hated that it made her feel...powerful. It was fucking terrifying. Her finger twitched as she realised how easy it would be for her to do the same to Harry, right here. There’d be no consequences. No one would doubt her if she said he’d attacked her. 

“I can’t say anything, Allie. I can’t say anything that will make it okay what I did,” he admitted in a weak voice.

Allie blinked away the tears, trying to clear her vision. He looked so pathetic, dark hair wild and hanging in his eyes, dirt streaked on his cheek, stark against his unusually pale skin. 

He looked so fucking human. She swore under her breath. Of course there would be consequences; maybe not punishment, but there’d be consequences. She’d have killed another person. She’d have chosen to end another life and she’d have to live with that weight on her soul. 

All the energy drained from her in a heartbeat. Her arm dropped, the gun slipping from her fingers to the forest floor. She followed it, folding to the damp earth with a broken sob, suddenly unable to bear any of it anymore.

She could no longer stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks, nor the sobs that tore from her throat and made her feel like her lungs were going to burst. 

Harry could come towards her, pick up the gun, press it to her skull and pull the trigger and she couldn’t stop him in that moment. She wasn’t sure she’d even want to.

She pressed her hands to her head, bits of leaves and earth sticking to her hair.

Beside her there was a footfall and she jerked her head up, wanting to know if this was how she was going to die. Harry was standing over her, staring down at her with a pained expression on his face. He looked as bad as she felt.

Just as she expected him to snatch the gun up, he dropped to his knees beside her and his arms came around her.

She froze. No one had touched her like that since they’d escaped. She could feel the dampness of his sweatshirt from the rain, she could smell the sweat and earth on his skin. His stubble scratched against her arm as he lowered his head, pressing his forehead into her shoulder. She wasn’t sure whether she was holding him up and he was holding her up.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Allie,” he whimpered against her shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Her heart was pounding against her ribs and her chest felt as though it was going to explode. She couldn’t handle his closeness any longer and, with sudden violence, she shoved him away from her, pushing herself backwards till her back hit the trunk of a tree.

He stared at her, tears glistening on his cheeks. The gun sat in the space between them, within arm’s reach for either. His gaze followed her eyes to it but he didn’t move.

He sunk down, sitting back on his heels.

“You can shoot me if you want,” he muttered, eyes going distant. He dropped his head as if he were giving her permission.

Allie was breathing hard, her senses in overdrive. She could feel the rough bark of the tree against her back, smell the rain coming in the air, hear the swaying of the tree tops as if it were the roar of thunder . She shook her head, trying to clear the chaos in her mind.

“I can’t,” she gasped, gaze landing on the gun. She couldn’t believe she’d even held it, let alone contemplated firing it into Harry’s chest. The thought made nausea rise up within her and she squeezed her eyes shut against the world.


	4. Remorse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the reviews and kudos. I'm so happy that people are enjoying reading the story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. At this point, I think there will be around 11-12 chapters, so you have a sense of where we are in the plot. 
> 
> Tell me, do you think the campers will let Harry in? Do you think they can trust him? How do you think Will will react to his arrival?

A heartbeat earlier Allie had had fury burning in her eyes and Harry had had braced himself for a bullet to rip through his body. Now he was kneeling in the damp earth with tears still trickling down his cheeks, watching her squeeze her eyes shut and shake her head like she was battling silent voices.

Now that he no longer had a gun pointed at his chest, he was starting to shake. The sudden loss of adrenalin made his skin shiver and insides feel like a writhing pit of snakes. He sunk down, exhausted and drained and defeated. He’d been ready for her to kill him. Had he almost wanted it? It would be an end to this...this feeling; the constant ache in his chest, the rising darkness that threatened to drown him. 

He didn’t know how long they both sat there in the dirt, battling to regain some semblance of control. The gun remained between them, pulling his gaze to it again and again. The sight of it made his skin turn cold. He felt sick. As sick as he’d been after Dewey told him what he did; why he did what he did. 

Dewey might have died for it but Harry knew it was his fault Cassandra was dead. So many days now he wished he was the one they’d executed instead. Better than this slow death the rest of them were sentenced to. 

His gaze drifted from the gun, passed Allie who still had her eyes shut, to the lights that twinkled in the distance. He’d wanted to die. So why was he here? 

Why had he trudged for days through the woods and ended up here? His mind buzzed with exhausted thoughts. He could just lie down right here and fall asleep. 

“Why are you here, Harry?”

They had been in silence so long that the sound of her voice made him jump. His eyes flew to here, that intense, unnerving stare she had that made him feel both frightened and turned on. It didn’t help that it was as if she’d been reading his thoughts.

He licked his lips, trying to coax his voice into working. “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly, his voice rough and broken. 

Allie inhaled and straightened as she did, as if she were drawing herself up again.

“Does...do they know you’re here?”

He shook his head, holding her gaze. By now he had no doubt they’d noticed his absence, but what would they think? Would they care?

He dropped his head.

“I just... I couldn’t be there anymore. Too many...memories.”

Her eyes flickered at his words and he knew that many of the memories that haunted him every time he closed his eyes probably were following her too. He didn’t know anyone in New Ham that didn’t have nightmares of some sort, except perhaps Campbell. 

“I don’t know if they’ll let you stay,” she murmured, glancing away. He watched as she dug anxiously with her nails into her right arm; he resisted the urge to reach out and make her stop. 

He glanced towards the lights again. What would he do if they turned him away? He’d rather die in the woods than return to New Ham. 

“Who’s in charge?” he asked quietly. It was an electric question. Power and politics had caused everyone far too much grief since It Happened. He let his eyes drift over Allie, taking in her wild tangle of hair, the shadows under her eyes visible even in the dim moonlight, the hunch of her shoulders, and he knew that she wasn’t making the decisions any longer. She looked like a wraith, as if a strong gust of wind could blow through the clearing and dissipate her like smoke. Guilt twisted at his gut again as he tallied all the reasons he was responsible for it

For a long moment he thought she hadn’t heard him but then she shrugged, glancing up at him. 

“Helena, I guess.”

He nodded, licking his dry and cracked lips again. Helena would be a good leader. The people trusted her. Hell, he’d trusted her in his own way back in New Ham. There was something so reassuring about someone so strong in their beliefs. Maybe he’d envied her that. 

He looked again at Allie. He’d trusted her, as well. She’d appeared strong in her beliefs, steadfast in her conviction that they were making the right decisions. At least, that was how she’d appeared in front of everyone else. He knew she was tormented by insecurity and self-doubt about every decision and every rule. He’d sensed that kinship in her, been drawn to the sense of worthlessness that he himself hid. But Allie had risen above these feelings and not allowed them to control her life. He had succumbed to them, sinking into a dark place and then turning to fear and anger to pull him out. He’d made selfish and stupid decisions and people had been hurt. Allie had been hurt. 

“I really am sorry,” he murmured. She lifted her head, met his eyes and held his gaze, unblinking for a long moment. He felt as though she were looking all the way through him. 

“We should take you into the camp,” she said, at long last, breaking the intensity of the moment between them. He looked away, realising he hadn’t been able to breathe with her eyes on him. He nodded, a sudden flurry of anxiety going through him.

Feeling an ache in every muscle and bone, he pushed himself to his feet, wobbling for a moment before standing steady. He glanced down at Allie, still puddled in the dirt, and held out a hand. She stared at his fingertips for a moment and then, suddenly, her felt the warmth of her hand in his, the tug of her body weight as she pulled herself up beside him. She let go of his hand and he curled his fingers into his palm, feeling like he’d lost something. 

They walked in silence through the trees, heading towards the light that spilled across the grass. It wasn’t until they reached the first tent that Harry realised they’d left the gun sitting in the leaves of the forest floor.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allie brings Harry back to the camp, but how will he be greeted?

Allie didn’t know what to expect as they neared the camp. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt, too cold and tired to think deeply about it. Beside her, Harry kept pace with her footsteps. They passed her guard tower and neared the ditch they’d dug for protection. It had been Gordy’s idea, like a medieval moat around a castle. It wouldn’t keep anyone out for too long, but they hoped if they needed it, it would slow them down at least. The thought made her feel sick again. She led harry across the plank of wood they balanced across it as a bridge and pulled it back behind her. That was the rule.

It seemed as though everyone was in their tents now, even if not asleep. The light from the campfire was a full red glow guiding her between the dark shapes of tents and the taller mass of the log cabin slash survival shelter that Grizz and a team were attempting to build. It had three walls of twigs and mud and had already fallen down in the rain twice. 

As she approached the circle of logs around the campfire, she spotted movement on the other side, underneath the tarp shelter that served at their kitchen.

Will was still awake, as was Kelly, talking quietly as they stood with melamine mugs in their hands. At the sound of her footsteps, they stopped talking and glanced up. She watched the flurry of expressions cross Will’s face: surprise, shock, anger. It took only a few seconds for him to drop his mug to the ground with a thud and practically vault over the logs towards them. Kelly was a few feet behind.

Will grabbed her by the arm, pulling her away from Harry. He placed himself in front of her, standing between the girls and Harry. Allie pushed aside her annoyance at the action.

“What the Hell is he doing here?” Will burst out, half turning to her. Beside her she could hear Kelly’s rapid breathing.

“Allie, what’s going on?” she murmured. Allie dropped her head, too tired for this.

“I found him in the woods,” she muttered. “He’s alone.”

Will’s shout had drawn non-sleepers from their tents and around them figures began to emerge. Harry looked around nervously. Allie sighed and pushed around Will, stubbornly walking back to Harry’s side. She could feel Will and Kelly’s gaze intent upon her but ignored them.

“He’s unarmed. He could have shot me if he wanted, but he didn’t.”

Will’s head shot up. “What the fuck does that mean, Allie?” he demanded, eyes wide.

She was saved from answering by Helena appearing at her side, looking startled. She eyed Harry warily and then looked at Allie’s sullen expression.

“Right,” was all she said, seemingly at a loss. Other people began to mutter behind her. Allie could hear Gwen’s voice: “We’re not letting him in, right?”

Suddenly she felt as though she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Despite being bone achingly exhausted for weeks now, she didn’t remember the last time she’d felt like she’d fall straight asleep as soon as she closed her eyes. She shifted on her feet, feeling the ache of a day spent ploughing the field. 

“I think we need everyone to vote on this,” Helena said and Allie forced herself to tune back in, realising she’d completely missed the conversation. She looked between Helena’s anxious face and Will’s glare. 

“What’s happening?” she said. They glanced at her. Will’s glare turned into a frown and he went to say something but Helena cut him off, her voice gentle as if she were speaking to a small child. Allie was too tired to be offended.

“We’re going to decide what to do with Harry as a group. We’ll wait to everyone is awake. For now...um...” she looked around their small camp. They weren’t exactly equipped to hold someone prisoner. It was Kelly who offered a solution.

“What about we tie him to a pole of the food shelter?” she said, throwing an apologetic look in Harry’s direction.

Harry, for his part, was standing as still and quiet as Allie was, letting them decide his fate as if he couldn’t care less. Helena and Kelly fell into conversation, muttering about security and guards. Allie was aware of Will’s eyes on her again, that sharp look of his cutting through her. She couldn’t meet his eyes, didn’t have the energy to decode the emotions in his gaze.

She turned and walked away, heading for her tent. She just wanted to lie down for a minute, just close her eyes. She heard the conversation stop behind her and knew they were all watching her receding back, confused. As she reached her tent and pulled up the zip, she heard Helena’s voice start up again and relaxed a little, glad no one was coming after her.

They could decide what to do with Harry. A few months ago she would have cared, she would have been determined to make the right decision, the fairest decision. She would have been the one leading the conversation, not Helena. Right now though, she just wanted to collapse onto her sleeping bag. 

She was sharing one of the larger tents with Will and Gordy and Bean. It had one main room and a kind of porch that was closed in from the outside. Her sleeping bag was crumpled up in one corner of this. She’d started off sleeping in the main section with the others but it was too crowded, too claustrophobic. Every night she’d lie awake and feel the presence of their bodies pressing in on her, even if they weren’t touching. 

She sighed as she rolled on top of her sleeping bag, collapsing gracelessly like a sack of flour. She could hear Gordy’s soft snore from inside; at least he could sleep. The ground was hard even with the yoga mat underneath and a cold breeze blew along the ground where the edges of the tent didn’t quite touch the grass. She shivered and rolled onto her back, staring up at the faded red canvas.

A footstep crunched on the grass outside and she closed her eyes, holding in the groan of annoyance as Will unzipped the tent. Maybe he’d think she was asleep. She kept her eyes firmly shut but she could feel him watching her.

“Allie, I know you’re not asleep,” he said, voice soft and low so as not to wake the others. With a sigh she opened her eyes and rolled her head towards him.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not trying to,” she muttered in reply. He manoeuvred himself into the tent, squeezing himself into the other side of the space, knees tucked up to his chest. She could barely make out his features in the darkness but she could feel his eyes boring into her like a laser. With another sigh she rolled all the way over, propping herself up on her elbow.

After several long moments of silence he spoke. “Allie, what’s going on?”

She picked at the edge of her sleeping bag, pulling at a loose thread. “What do you mean?” They’d started this conversation several times over the last few months. And every time it ended with her frustration and Will’s deepening confusion and hurt. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t mean to snap at him but he just kept pushing her. 

“What did you mean when you said Harry could have killed you if he wanted?”

Her eyes flickered to the dark shadow of his form and she shrugged, even though he wouldn’t be able to see it. Somehow it was easier not being able to see his face.

“I dropped the gun,” she said simply, quickly, her tone devoid of emotion. She didn’t want to tell him how she’d sat in the dirt and looked up at Harry, waiting for the touch of cold steel against her skull. 

There was a beat of silence and her eyes flickered in his direction again, her heart suddenly beating a little faster.

“Did he pick it up?” he said at last, his voice tight as if he were trying to hide what he was truly thinking. Allie shook her head and then realised he couldn’t see her. 

“No,” she replied. “It’s still in the woods.”

“Why didn’t you call for help when you saw something?” Will continued.

“I don’t know,” Allie admitted, shifting on her side. She cleared her throat, giving the loose thread a savage tug.

“You went into the woods on your own in the dark because you saw someone.” It wasn’t a question so she didn’t give him an answer. 

She could hear the concern in his voice now and the irritation began to stir inside her. She rolled onto her stomach, resting her head on her forearms. Will’s tone matched the look that Kelly and Gwen and even sometimes Helena had been giving her lately, the one that made her feel like she was a small child and they didn’t trust her to make sensible decisions. 

“It was just Harry,” she muttered sullenly, fully aware that she sounded like the petulant child they were treating her as. She could hear Will’s annoyance in his inhale.

“Just Harry,” he said, his voice tight. “And what if he’d come here to kill us? Kill you? Fuck. What if it had been Campbell? Or the Guard?”

At the mention of their captors, Allie stomach did a flip. She turned her head away from him, afraid that even in the dark he’d see the sudden panic in her expression. She bit down hard on her lip as their faces flashed into her mind. The metallic tang of blood landed on her tongue.

Will sighed when his statement was met with stony silence. He didn’t know of the battle that was raging inside of her as she tried to regain control of her own body, the sudden wave of panic that had crashed over her leaving her mute and immobile. 

She squeezed her eyes shut but a tear still managed to escape. Why couldn’t he just understand? She didn’t have the words to explain to him, she needed him to read her mind. 

Please, understand, she chanted in her mind. Please, please, please. Hear me. 

The canvas of the tent rustled as he shifted. She heard his defeated exhale.

“We think you should take a break from guard duty for a while,” he said, his voice soft but his tone distant. “Until you’re more rested.”

He paused a moment longer, waiting for her reply, but she couldn’t bring herself to talk yet. She lay stomach down, face turned into the wall of the tent, eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold in the sobs that threatened to come. 

Will sighed again. The zip of the inner room was loud in the still night air.

“Try and get some sleep,” Will murmured gently, before he disappeared inside. Allie didn’t move as she listened to the rustling of his sleeping bag as he settled himself down, the toss and turn as he tried to find a comfortable position, the grumbled mumble of Gordy or Bean as they were disturbed, and at long last the even rhythm of Will’s deep, sleeping breathing.

Allie didn’t get any sleep. She rolled onto her back and stared at the roof of the rent, watched the colour change as moonlight faded and the grey light of dawn broke across the sky. As the first birds began to shriek from the trees, she rolled herself silently from her sleeping bag, pulled on another sweatshirt, and padded softly through the sleeping camp.


	6. Nettle Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone in the early hours of dawn, Harry and Allie talk...

Kelly brought him a blanket. She didn’t meet his eyes as she placed it awkwardly around his shoulders. They’d tied his hands behind his back, bound to a rough tree trunk that was holding one up corner of a tarpaulin. He was facing the campfire and most of the tents and so he could watch as, for a while, they all stood around the glowing coals, muttering to each other, throwing glances in his direction. They clearly didn’t know what to do with him. That was fine, he didn’t know what to do with him either. 

He let his eyes run over the camp. They’d done pretty well for themselves. It almost looked like a little village with the low shadows of tents snuggling close to each other. A cold breeze moved the surface of the lake, sending ripples of reflected moonlight dancing. Harry rocked his head back against the pole and closed his eyes, the deep, bone aching weariness suddenly overwhelming. 

“Um... you’re not going to like...fucking freeze to death before morning or anything, are you?”

The voice startled him back to the present and he opened his eyes to see, Luke, shifting uncomfortably in his feet. 

Harry cocked his head to the side. “That would solve everyone’s problems wouldn’t it?” he replied dryly. Luke’s gaze flickered to him, confused, and then away. Harry sighed and tilted his head back again.

“No, Luke. I won’t freeze to death before morning. Pinky promise.” 

“Right,” Luke mumbled. “Well, uh, I’m going to be guarding you till morning. Just so you know.” He threw another furtive glance towards Harry and then turned, shuffling to the edge of the campfire circle, sitting heavily on a log. Helena leaned down and murmured something in his ear and he nodded. She, too, threw a look towards him, though hers contained pure exasperation, and then moved away silently through the tents. The others drifted away too, with a few final glances in his direction as they disappeared into the shadows.

Luke was sitting on the other side of the campfire and, after a while, nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees and the quiet lapping of the lake could be heard. Harry shivered and twisted his wrists. They hadn’t tied him tight. Helena had been quite gentle as she wound the rope around and around. He thought glumly back to when they’d arrested Will and Allie, to standing out the front of the church and watching Jason tug black rope hard around Allie’s wrists, her silent wince as it cut into her skin. He sighed and dropped his head. 

He wished he’d had the courage to just lie down and die in the woods. It would have been so much simpler. But he was a coward, too afraid to face whatever came next given everything he had done. He’d never really believed in Heaven or Hell before It Happened. For a while afterwards, when he was at the deepest point, he’d wondered if they were actually in Hell. Now he realised how stupid that sounded. If anything, they were in Purgatory, caught in a limbo of nothingness; stuck, waiting, helpless. Before It Happened, he hadn’t had any reason to fear Hell but none either to want Heaven. Now...now he knew without a doubt where he’d end up and it terrified him. 

He might have drifted into an uncomfortable sleep, or just become numb, stuck in dark thoughts and memories. But all of a sudden a voice broke through his reverie and he lifted his head, surprised to find that the edges of the sky were tinged with grey. Dawn was coming. The voice belonged to the figure standing at the edge of the campfire, hands in her pockets, blonde hair blowing in the light breeze. She was saying something to Luke who was still sitting hunched on his log. 

As Harry looked up, Allie glanced over at him, catching his eye. She said something more to Luke and then, without waiting for his reply, moved towards him. Harry tried to straighten his back against the pole, his muscles stiff and protesting. 

“You came back,” he stated calmly as she neared. She stopped just in front of him, hands deep in the pockets of her sweatshirt, lips pressed into a thin line. He hadn’t seen her since she’d just turned on her heel and walked away from them...from him. 

“Yeah,” she replied with a shrug. She rocked on her heels for a moment, studying him with that unnerving head tilt of hers. 

“I’m going to make a cup of tea,” she said at last. “Want one?” She said it as if they were in her kitchen back in New Ham on a perfectly ordinary day. He twisted to watch her move around the make shift kitchen behind him. She pulled out some camping mugs from a crate and some old coffee tins. 

“We don’t exactly have any Earl Grey,” she said, shaking the tin and peering inside. “And there’s no choice but to have it black. But Becca has been experimenting with some different types. We’ve got chamomile, nettle and...dandelion.” 

She looked up at him expectantly. Harry felt off-balance, confused by the contrast between the wild haired, wild eyed girl from the woods and this Allie playing hostess. 

“Um...I’ll have whatever you’re having,” he muttered. She gave a slow nod, her gaze distant. 

He watched her in silence as she placed three mugs on the roughly constructed countertop, wandered to the fireside to check the boiling water, and poured it into the mugs. She handed one to Luke who muttered his thanks and wrapped his hands around it and brought the other two towards him. She dropped to her knees directly in front of him and paused.

“Oh,” she said, suddenly realising he could hardly drink tea with his hands tied behind his back. Her eyes flickered. He wondered if she was remembering the rope around her own wrists. 

“It’s fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. She placed one of the cups on the ground beside them and lifted the other up.

“Here,” she said, eyes not meeting his as she held the cup up. He leaned towards her, fixing his gaze on her as he took a tentative sip of the tea, watching the way she kept her gaze fixed over his shoulder. The tea was scalding but he closed his eyes, relishing the sting of pain cutting through his numbness. It had a strange tangy taste.

Allie lowered the cup, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and rocked back on her heels.

“What is it?” Harry asked, nodding at the cup. He licked his lips, feeling the tingle of the hot water rush through his body.

“Nettle,” Allie replied, putting the cup down. She took a hesitant sip of her own, only her fingertips poking out from her sweatshirt. He watched her, noting the pallor of her skin in the increasing dawn light. 

“You don’t sleep much, do you?” he murmured. Her eyes snapped up, locking with his briefly before darting away again as if she’d been caught out. “I get it,” he added when she didn’t say anything. “I don’t sleep much either these days.”

She folded her legs underneath her and sat down on the grass, the cup cradled in her lap, studying its swirling contents like it was artwork. 

“It’s not new,” she said softly. “I haven’t really slept since It Happened. Or since Cassandra...”

She trailed off and looked out over the water. It was Harry’s turn to drop his gaze, the ever present gnaw of guilt flaring up with a vengeance. 

“I think about her every day,” he said, startling even himself. He hadn’t told anyone that. Slowly, Allie turned back to him, her gaze grim. He cleared his throat. “Really. Every day, I wish I’d never said those stupid words. I wish...”

He didn’t even know what he wished for anymore. To start over? To be back home? To just leave it all behind?

He felt the weight of Allie’s gaze for a long moment before she spoke.

“What you did was fucking awful,” she said, her voice perfectly even, “But it was Dewey who pulled the trigger, Harry. It was Dewey who...who murdered her.” Her voice broke on the final words and she looked down at her tea again, her fingers tightening on the mug. He followed her gaze.   
“What do you think it’d be like if she was still here?” he said quietly. He thought about that too, wondered how much pain and misery they would have all been spared.

Allie sniffed and tossed her head, a joyless smile on her lips. “Well, I wouldn’t have had to execute anyone.” She swallowed and he could see the tension in her face where she was trying not to cry. 

“You’d still be in her shadow,” Harry said and her eyes snapped to his face, filled with a sudden fire. He bit his lip, knowing he’d overstepped. He’d lied all those months ago when he’d told her that he hadn’t really noticed her before It Happened. He’d watched her before, watched the way she shrunk beside the charisma and charm of her sister, noticed the way she tried to become part of the furniture whenever Cassandra was around, backing into a wall and watching her sister with a mixture of awe, love and envy. He couldn’t relate to that – he was an only child – but he knew what it was like to never be good enough. Hell, his father had practically made it a weekly ritual to inform him what a disappointment he was to the family name. 

Allie’s fire faded almost as quickly as it had appeared and she returned to her study of her tea. 

“It would have been better for everyone if they’d just fucking shot me instead,” she muttered, angrily tugging a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

Harry’s back straightened. He’d never heard her talk like that before. She was stronger than that, strong enough to pull him out of his darkness, strong enough to stand up in front of the whole town after her sister was killed. 

“Don’t say that.” She looked up again at his tone, startled by the emotion behind it. He shook his head, holding her gaze; those blue eyes, so serious. “Don’t ever say that, Allie.”

For a long moment he couldn’t breathe as she held his gaze, thought after thought flickering across her eyes. His chest was ready to burst when she finally broke the moment, turning her head to the side.

“I’m going to go collect some drinking water,” she muttered, barely audible, pushing herself to her feet. Harry let out a painful breath, his ribs aching.

“I’ll be here,” he murmured, the joke falling woodenly between them. She hesitated as if she were going to say something more, but then she turned and like a wisp of smoke vanished into the grey dawn light.


	7. Just a Moment of Quiet

There still weren’t too many people awake as Allie slipped out of the camp and headed north to where a mountain stream trickled into their lake. The empty plastic water drums banged against her leg with each step. She was supposed to tell someone when she left the perimeter of the camp but she couldn’t face Will or Helena right now and she just wanted to be away from Harry. 

She was beginning to wonder if she should have just left him in the woods. She didn’t like the way he looked at her, studied her, really. There was something about his gaze that made her feel completely transparent. He was a selfish prick, a spoiled brat, an arrogant, sometimes violent idiot and a drug-addicted traitor...and yet every time they spoke she felt as if he understood her more than anyone else these days. What did that say about her? 

She stamped her foot down on a patch of clover angrily as she began the gentle climb away from camp. The flowers sprang back up when she lifted her boot. Stubborn bastards. 

There was a stick with a piece of yellow cloth fluttering from it at the spot where they collected water. Allie drew to a halt, feeling the cold air stabbing her lungs as she tried to catch her breath. She tossed the drums down on the ground with a resonant boom and straightened, turning her face to the morning sun. Its weak rays weren’t yet strong enough to reach through her jacket and take the constant chill from her bones. With a sigh she turned, looking back down over their camp. 

It was nice up here. Quiet. She could hear the running water beside her, the birds in the trees making a racket, the scuttle of rocks from underneath her boot and their skittering down the slope. Down below the smoke of their campfire wafted into the clouds. Someone had stoked it, probably getting ready to cook the morning meal. She could see bodies moving between the tents here and there, not many, but the first few early risers, or the ones who had never gone to sleep. 

With a sudden movement, Allie sat down on the grass, the morning dew soaking into her jeans. She rested her chin in her hand and stared glumly at the tents. She welcomed the escape from the endless questions and comments of her friends. She knew they meant well, she knew she was being an asshole to most of them. But every time she could feel their eyes on her she found she couldn’t breathe. It was claustrophobic, having them care. 

Against her will, her thoughts drifted to her conversation with Harry. Something he’d said was stuck in her brain. What would it be like if Cassandra was here? She hadn’t allowed herself down that rabbit hole of self-pity and dark thoughts before; there’d been too many other things to focus on. Only that one time, the day after her death, talking to Gordy beside the stain of her sister’s lifeblood had she entertained the idea. If only I had been with her. Maybe they would have killed me instead. Maybe. What If. 

Her view of the camp blurred as tears sprang to her eyes. She sniffed, and shook her head, determined to fight them this time. She was so sick of crying. 

Would Cassandra be proud of her now? She focused her gaze on the campfire where several people were already gathered. No doubt those first awake would be surprised to learn they’d taken a prisoner in the night. Harry blamed himself for Cassandra’s death. She’d seen how far down he’d sunk after her death, perhaps the reality that his words had caused her murder too much for him to bear. 

She had hated him, for a while, loathed that she had ever allowed herself to be with someone that said those things about her sister. And then she’d blamed him for her own pain, sickness and guilt she felt at the execution. She hadn’t wanted it to be her fault. She’d wanted it to have been Will’s fault, for pushing her, or Dewey’s fault for committing the crime, or Harry’s fault for starting it all. But no, she was the one that pulled the trigger. She had no doubt in her mind that the bullet that splintered Dewey’s skull had come from her gun. No one had forced her to do it. It had been her brain making the decision to pick it up, her hand holding the gun, her finger squeezing the trigger. 

So her anger at Harry had faded. He’d only talked about murder. She’d actually committed it. So who was she to judge him? 

Allie dug the toe of her shoe into the soft earth. Cassandra wouldn’t be proud of a lot of the stuff she’d done. She would have been sick to her stomach to know she’d executed someone. She’d have found fault with every decision she’d made while in charge. Cassandra would have done it better. Cassandra wouldn’t have let the town succumb to revenge and greed and fear.

Angrily she brushed a lone tear from her cheek. So much for no self-pity. She pushed herself to her feet and wearily picked up the drums, kneeling on the stones at the edge of the stream to fill them.

As she began to slow walk down the hill her arms were aching from the weight of the water and her chest was aching from the weight of her conscience.


	8. Democracy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay, I've been snowed under with work and exams. Hope this makes up for it! x

Harry was dreading morning. With every person that emerged from their tents his heart sank a little lower. It was the looks they gave him that hurt the most. He’d watch the emotions chase each other across their faces: mouths gasping in surprise, a moment of fear in their glance, then eyes narrowing in disgust. Helena sat calmly on one of the logs, fielding the same questions over and over again as people rushed up to her, throwing glances in his direction as they talked. No one made a cup of coffee; no one came anywhere near him. He sat with his hands completely numb now, his shoulders aching, and shame burning bright on his cheeks. 

He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or not when Helena finally got to her feet and called everyone to the campfire. The crowd of thirty or so teenagers huddled around, arms around each other, blowing on gloved hands and stamping their feet against the cold morning frost. 

“Okay,” she announced, her voice clear and calm. Harry lifted his head to watch her. “Obviously, we’ve got a decision to make. Last night, Harry was found in the woods. He says he ran away from New Ham and they’ll kill him if he goes back.” She threw a glance in his direction and others’ followed. Harry felt his cheeks burn even redder. It wasn’t very often that Harry Bingham had felt embarrassed enough in life to blush. But he could feel the anger and resentment and distrust in his eyes at it burned through his skin because he knew they were right. He had betrayed them all by helping Campbell take power and many of them had paid dearly for it, humiliated or terrified by the Guard, houses burned to rubble, sent fleeing into the woods. 

Helena continued. “We are obviously going to vote on what we do with Harry. And I think it’ll have to be unanimous, so if we can’t agree, we’ll have to keep talking it over. I guess the options are, we let him stay or we exile him into the woods. Are there any other suggestions?”

A low murmur moved through the gathered teenagers but no one spoke up. The uncomfortable glances in his direction continued. 

At last, a boy called Tobias spoke up, raising his hand like he thought he was still in school.

“If we let him stay, what’s to stop him betraying us again?”

“What if he’s a spy?” interjected another girl whose name Harry didn’t remember, “What if he’s just here to help Campbell?”

“Yeah, we can’t trust him. He only cares about himself!”

Harry couldn’t keep his head up any longer. The voices piling one on top of the other cut into him like steel. He couldn’t blame them for thinking so little of him but God it still fucking hurt to hear it. 

It was Kelly who spoke next, filling the lull that had fallen over the group. He looked up again at the sound of her quiet but strong voice, sending him flashing back to so much simpler times. God, it felt like ten years ago that he and Kelly had been together. 

“If we send him back into the woods, he’ll die.” She said it matter-of-factly, and met his eyes as she spoke. He held her gaze, stunned by the rawness of her words. “He won’t survive another night.”

“That’s not our problem,” Will muttered, but loud enough for most of them to hear. He turned his back on Harry, facing the campfire with his arms crossed.

“Yeah,” Tobias said, pointing at Will, “Harry was ready to let Will and Allie die when he locked them up.”

“That’s not true.”

Harry’s head flicked around at the sound of Allie’s voice, as did most others in the group. Will spun on the spot, hands falling at his side. Allie had appeared around the edge of the shelter where he was tied, dropping two heavy looking drums of water on the ground. She seemed nervous, her gaze slipping around the crowd that were all now staring at her in dead silence. Looking uncomfortable, she rubbed her forearm and glanced at the ground.

“Go on, Allie,” Helena urged in a gentle voice.

Allie took a deep breath and she glanced for the first time at Harry. 

“Harry made sure I had food and water when I was locked up. He...he didn’t like what was happening.”

He couldn’t look at her as she said it. He couldn’t bear to watch the flash of anger in her eyes as she remembered the basement where Campbell had imprisoned her. It was true, he had brought her a bottle of water and a granola bar, but God, that hardly absolved him. Yeah, it had made him sick realising the mistake they had made, realising just how dangerous Campbell was and just how venomous his hatred for Allie was. But he had still turned around and left her there. He didn’t think he regretted anything ever as much as that. He wished he could tell her that now. 

Allie was staring fiercely at the ground and he knew she was trying to force back tears. 

“Allie,” Will spoke hesitantly, concern creasing his forehead. “What he said about Cassandra...”

“Was vile.” Allie shook her head, eyes still on the ground.”And I’ll never forgive him for that.”

A lump was stuck in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Harry blinked rapidly, mortified at the thought of letting the tears fall in front of everyone. He could hear Allie’s hitched breathing as she too fought her own body. She cleared her throat.

“But…but Harry didn’t kill Cassandra,” she said, her voice suddenly louder, clearer. He could feel eyes on him; he wondered if they were hers. 

“He helped Lexie and Campbell take over the town.” He recognised Gwen’s voice, soft and uncertain but carrying venom towards the names she spoke. 

“Yeah,” Allie replied hesitantly. “And looking at him I’d say he’s pretty fucking sorry for that.” 

Now he could feel many gazes upon him, burning through him as if they’d held a brand to his skin. He wished the ground would suddenly turn into a sink hole and he could just disappear down and down into the darkness, swallowed by the tumbling black earth until he didn’t have to think about what he had done. And more importantly what he hadn’t done. 

“We…” Will spoke again. Harry scrunched his nose and gave his head a quick shake, trying to steel himself against the ache in his chest and the fire on his skin. He risked a glance up through messy hair, gaze flashing to Will. “We can’t trust him, Allie.” Will still had his arms crossed, a deep frown creasing his forehead as he stared solemnly into the flames of the campfire. There were a few murmurs in response to his comment but no one openly agreed. 

In the stillness of the morning air and the sombre silence of the crowd, Harry could hear Allie’s breath tremble as she inhaled.

“We can’t trust anyone,” she said heavily. Harry’s gaze swung to her, captured by the aching sadness of her voice. “We’ve all changed since It Happened. 

Some of us became better people, helping each other and doing good. Some of us…didn’t.” He could hear the self-loathing in her voice.

Will had turned back to face her and was shaking his head. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

A few people nodded and a dark haired girl stepped up beside Will. “He as good as killed someone,” she said angrily, a malicious look thrown in his direction. 

“Well I actually killed someone!” 

Harry’s forgot his own shame as the raw pain in Allie’s voice cut through him. He looked to her, standing with her hands balled into fists at her side, shoulders trembling as she tried to hold herself together. The look she was giving them all was one of fire and fury, but he know she was only trying to hold back the burning hot tears that threatened to fall. He knew that look well. 

The cold morning mist hung over them all, only the sound of the wind and the water and the birds filling the space of Allie’s outburst. People looked at each other, anxious, alarmed, frightened. Harry could feel it all in his chest, tight and closing in on him so he couldn’t breathe. The tension of the group was contagious. 

Will made a move towards Allie and then seemed to think better of is, pausing. “That was different, Allie,” he murmured, as if it were just the two of them. 

“That was an execution.”

Her burning gaze was turned to him and Harry thought he would have shrunk away if it had been him in Will’s shoes right then. To his credit, Will remained steady, though he looked pale and drawn. 

“It was murder, Will,” Allie whispered, her voice breaking on the words. Despite the lowness of her voice, everyone was fixated on her, hanging on every word. “Call it want you want,” she continued, “But I killed someone. So if you’re going to send Harry out into the woods for his crimes, you’ll have to send me out there too.”

At last, Will seemed unable to hold it any longer and he dropped his gaze to the ground. Harry let his eyes travel over the group. Kelly was crying, silent tears trickling down her cheeks. Helena had a hand to her mouth, Luke had placed his arm around her shoulders. 

Through the people, he suddenly caught a glimpse of Becca’s dark hair and a blanket wrapped bundle in her arms. His stomach did a flip. 

The silence that stretched after Allie’s speech was painful but when she began to speak again, her voice was steadier. 

“If we send him out into the woods, we’re as good as killing him,” Allie said, sounding more like her old self as she lifted her head and addressed the crowd. 

“Who here can live with that? Because I know I fucking can’t.” 

She glanced at Harry and their eyes locked for a second before he returned his gaze to the ground, too sickeningly ashamed to look her in the eye yet. 

Helena cleared her throat. “Okay then. Let’s vote.”

He didn’t look up as she called out the two sides, he didn’t want to see the hands raised for and against him. Despite what Allie had said, he still wouldn’t blame them if they exiled him. And yet, there was a tiny fluttering of something alive deep in his gut that maybe, possibly, just a little bit wanted to stay…wanted to live. 

“Okay.”

He only looked up at the tone of Helena voice. She was looked at him, as were most of the others now. Kelly was still crying. Will was still glaring. 

“Okay,” Helena said again, her expression unreadable. “Harry stays.”

Something inside of him snapped and a wave of adrenalin crashed through his body, setting his nerves on fire. He gulped a deep breath and lifted his face to the sky, squeezing his eyes shut against the bright morning sunshine. 

“Well he sure as fuck isn’t sharing my tent,” someone muttered.


	9. Chapter 9

It had been two days since they’d voted to let Harry stay. The whole camp had been tense in the aftermath and even Allie had had a flicker of doubt when darkness fell that first night, anxious that they had made a fatal mistake and Campbell and the guard were at that minute hiding in the trees with loaded guns. 

But dusk fell, dawn came and dusk fell again and that night she even managed to get a few hours of solid sleep before she was woken by a nightmare.   
As she sat by the campfire in the morning, sitting on her usual solitary rock and sipping a cup of nettle tea, she watched Harry emerge tousle haired from his tent and walk across the camp towards her. People still skirted around him; no one looked directly at him nor spoke to him.

“How’s the tent?” she asked politely as he neared. He glanced up with a look of surprise and she noted how his expression relaxed when he spotted her. 

“Great,” he murmured, running a hand through his already atrociously messy hair. “Very…um…private.”

She smiled wryly. No one had been willing to let him enter their tent. They’d cleared out one of the single person tents they’d been using as storage. Harry was the only person in the camp to have a tent all to himself.

“Just like you always wanted,” she said, the smile fading. She cleared her throat and kicked her boot against a log that had rolled to the edge of the fire. 

She could feel Harry’s discomfort at her comment and knew he was thinking about the coup and everything he had done just to have his fucking house back to himself. Personally, she’d never understood it. After It Happened, and even more so after Cassandra had died, she couldn’t have stood the thought of being in that big house alone. At least with Will, Gordie, Bean and the Guard moving in and out of the kitchen, talking in the dining room, sitting on the porch with mugs of hot chocolate she could occasionally close her eyes and pretend that everything was normal, that the voices drifting up the stairs were those of her parents and her sister. 

She looked up at Harry again, tilting her head to the side as she scrutinised him. She wondered what it was like to have grown up in his mini mansion, no brothers or sisters, his mother in and out of the hospital and his father always working. He might have been the prince of West Ham but she’d never envied him. 

“I hate it when you look at me like that,” he commented awkwardly, sitting down on a log opposite her. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and hunched over, staring at the flames.

“Like what?” she replied and took a sip of her tea.

His eyes flickered to her, flickered over her face. “Peculiar and intense,” he said and she couldn’t help the smile that slipped across her face at the memory of their poolside conversation. He coughed and shrugged his shoulders and she blushed, knowing that, he too, was thinking of what had happened in his bedroom shortly afterwards. 

“They’re…um…they’re going to set you to work today,” she said, desperately needing to change the topic of conversation. She nodded her head in the direction of Helena and Luke’s tent. “There was a discussion last night.”

Harry nodded and didn’t say anything. 

“Do you want some tea?” she offered, holding up her mug. He eyed it glumly but then gave a defeated nod.

“I’d kill for a cappuccino,” he sighed as she collected him a mug and some of Becca’s precious tea leaves. She shoved the mug into his hands and plonked herself back down on her rock, letting him deal with the boiling water on the fire himself.

“Maybe don’t say that too loudly,” she commented dryly, watching him incompetently pour the water. 

He put the kettle down and looked up at her sharply at her words, his face going a shade paler.

“I didn’t mean…”

She was saved from replying by Will’s arrival. He appeared silently from between two tents, hands in his pockets. He looked between the two of them and didn’t even try to hide the anger that flashed across his face at Harry’s presence. He half turned his back to him and faced her.

”Allie, I’m heading into the woods to the north to try and find any deer,” Will said, pointedly ignoring Harry. “I could really use your help. Do you…do you wanna come?” 

She didn’t look at him but she could feel him looking at her. He’d asked her the same question nearly every day now and every day she said no. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to be with Will. But she knew that when they were out there, alone in the silence of the forest with the whole day ahead of them, that he would begin asking questions. Questions that she couldn’t answer. 

He didn’t understand why she was choosing to work digging the grass over for the new big crops every single day. Everyone else worked on a rotating system because it was the most physically demanding job and no one wanted to do it. But she chose it every day instead of choosing him. She knew it cut him deeply and that made her chest ache. 

She risked a glance up at him and the pleading in his eyes only compounded the problem. She shook her head, looking down again, hair falling like a curtain to hide her.

“No,” she murmured, feeling sickness in her stomach. There was a pause and then she heard his familiar sigh, exasperation and sadness mixed up together. 

“Fine,” he muttered, spinning and striding away. Allie peeked through her hair, watching his retreating back. Why did she keep doing this to him? He didn’t deserve the hurt and confusion that she was causing him. But every time they talked, it happened.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. 

“Dare I ask?” Harry said softly, turning from his study of Will’s retreat to scrutinise Allie. She shot him a poisonous look and he shrugged, for a half second looking like the arrogant bastard from before It Happened. 

“Shut up, Harry,” she snapped flatly, unable to muster the strength for anger. 

There was a beat and then suddenly he moved to the log closest to her, elbows on his knees, eyes pinned to her face. She shifted uncomfortably.

“You haven’t told him about what happened, have you?” he said, his voice low and soft. His gaze was burning into her skin, setting it on fire. She cleared her throat and tossed her head, pulling her gaze away from him to look out over the top of the tents. She blinked, trying to hide the fact that tears were prickling at the edges of her eyes. 

“Don’t, Harry,” she managed to get out, her voice strained. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

The intensity of his demeanor faded and he relaxed his shoulders and looked down into his mug. 

“I get it,” he said with a shrug, shooting a glance at her. “But have you talked about it with anyone? Sorry to be harsh, Allie, but you’re a fucking mess right now. And they all know it.”

A bitter laugh escaped her and she shook her head. “Look who’s talking. You don’t look so hot yourself, Harry Bingham.” It came out more vicious than she’d intended and, as he dropped his head, she felt a twinge of guilt. Just like Will, just like Kelly and Helena and Becca and Gordy, he was only trying to help her. And all she seemed capable of doing was being a complete bitch in return. 

Harry shook his head. “No,” he agreed slowly, then lifted his gaze to her again. “But I don’t have people who’d listen if I started talking. You do.”

She held his look for a long moment, temporarily stunned by the wisdom in his words. It wasn’t that she didn’t know he was right. Of course he was. They’d all listen to her and support her and love her just the same. But what no one seemed to understand, not even Allie herself honestly, was that she just couldn’t find the words to explain what she was feeling. How could she translate the constant pain in her stomach, the nightmares, the prickling feeling of someone watching her into words that they would understand? 

She broke the moment and looked away, pulling on the sullen and angry persona she’d been perfecting lately.

“I said I’m not talking about this with you,” she snapped. 

Harry looked away, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. 

“You know, Allie, you and I are more similar than either of us want to admit.”

She rolled her eyes again and sighed. “Fucking fantastic,” she said, ignoring the voice that was telling her he was right. 

He laughed dryly, the same joyless laughter that had all she’d been able to produce lately. He tossed the remnants of his tea into the dirt and pushed himself to his feet.

“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand to help her up. “I believe we have a field to plough. You can take all that anger out on the poor, defenceless earth.”

Allie glared up at him. “I’ll do anything right now, as long as it means this conversation is over,” she snapped. Reluctantly, achingly, she stood as well.

Harry knocked his empty mug against her own. 

“To blocking out all thought and feeling,” he toasted flatly. His eyes flashed to her face and then away again as he turned and walked towards the kitchen. 

Allie stared down at her empty mug, her fingers tightening around it. She had the sudden urge to hurl it as hard and far as she could, to let out the feral   
scream that had been tightening her chest for weeks now. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to take a deep breath, pushing down the sudden surge of panic that had risen within her.

When she opened her eyes again, Harry was watching her silently from the other side of the campfire, waiting. 

“Fine,” she sighed, her shoulders dropping. “Let’s get on with it.”


End file.
